Chains of a Dark Goddess (28 page)

“Master?” Esha said late one night while he was pouring over old tomes. “You’re plotting something other than war, aren’t you?”

“Keep your voice down. This city has ears.”

“Harmulkot isn’t nearby.”

“How can
you
tell?”

Esha shrugged. “I can just kinda sense her, you know?”

“Yes, I do, but I don’t know how you can.” Esha shrugged. “Do you trust Harmulkot?”

“No. But she seems all right.”

“That’s how I feel. And yes,” he whispered, “I’m researching something else. I’m trying to find another way to help Orisala if I fail here.”

“You don’t think we’ll win?”

“Not a chance. But I’ll try.”

Esha tied her blonde hair into a tail. It had grown out over the last few weeks and she wouldn’t let anyone cut it. She had let some of the maidservants from the palace wash and comb it. They tried to get her in a dress, but that endeavor ended with one maidservant running out crying with a bloody nose.

“I feel bad for the people in Mûlkra and the Issalians. All this warfare seems
pointless
. Do you think Seshalla exists? That
this
is what she wants?”

“I have no idea. And I don’t know what the truth is except that what I fought for wasn’t right. Now, I’m fighting for someone I love, something that’s real and worth it, but I’m
not
an honorable man anymore. I have no easy answers.”

“But you have me!”

“I have you.” He laughed.
Riddle that you are.
“I have you, so how could I fail?”

“
You can’t
!”

~~~

Scouts arrived to report that the Issalian army was only five days away from the Mountains of the Blessed Night. Breskaro interviewed the scouts and then spoke with Aleui and Harmulkot.

“My appearance is sowing confusion, but I don’t think it will ultimately help us. Those most likely to fight will fight harder to be rid of the abomination that I am. If anything, my return is motivating them.”

“What more can we do?” Aleui asked Breskaro. 

Aleui had been, under Harmulkot’s guidance, casting spells to strengthen the gates, to prevent spying, and other simple yet vital counter-measures. Aleui’s skills were limited, but she did what she could, as did the priestesses under her command.

“The soldiers are training hard and I have every able-bodied man who is not a soldier training in their spare time or digging pit traps outside the walls and on our side of Kerokar Pass. I have them stacking stones for emergency patching of the walls and other traps and projects of interest. I know the enemy’s tactics. I know how best to fight them when they reach Kerokar Pass.

“As for what else we can do ... I need bodies.”

“We cannot open up the cemeteries,” declared Aleui. “It would destroy morale.”

“I agree,” said Harmulkot. “We must wait until there are dead on the battlefield and raise them.”

“If we must. But if it comes to it, I will raise anyone and everyone that I can.”

“As you should,” said Harmulkot.

“So there’s nothing else?” said Aleui.

“Tactics, courage, sorcery, the undead — that is all we have,” said Breskaro.

“It’s not enough, is it?” the priestess asked.

“We’ll need a strong measure of good fortune, or a terrible mistake on their part. Even disturbed by my presence, I don’t think Magnos will err so disastrously.”

“Could we assassinate him?”

“He will be well guarded and not only by soldiers. He will have priestesses who can wield actual power with him for this campaign, knowing they will face sorcery when they come against us. Magnos knows we might try to take him. In fact, he may present a perfect opportunity to lure me into a trap.”

“We could send demons after him,” Harmulkot suggested.

Breskaro shook his head. “Too much energy required just to kill one man. No matter how much I hate him, it isn’t worth it. They have other capable commanders who could replace him.

“Now, Harmulkot, I believe you were about to tell me about some secret tunnels.”

Chapter 40

Breskaro sat at an expansive desk piled high with dusty tomes and scrolls, most of them spell grimoires. He flipped through them searching for anything that might aid him in learning how to use the Akythiri Mechanism.

Footsteps echoed down the corridor. 

Esha stirred on the pallet she was sleeping on in the corner of the room. “Harmulkot’s coming,” she said with a yawn.

The door opened and Aleui stepped in. She marched over to the table and dropped a heavy tome that struck with a thundering clap and a cloud of dust.

“Harmulkot says this is what you’re looking for, Breskaro.”

“What is it?” he asked with suspicion.

“I have no idea. She can tell you.”

At that Aleui took off Harmulkot’s qavra and set it on the table. She marched out of the room, saying: “I’ll return in a few minutes.”

The ghost of Harmulkot billowed out of the qavra. “If you want to learn how to operate the Akythiri Mechanism, you will need to read this.”

“I haven’t been trying to—”

Harmulkot waved a hand. “Spare me, Breskaro. You are a cunning man, but death did not make you a good liar. Remember, I have been playing this game for millennia. I thought it best to spare you time better spent on winning this war. You are
chained
to me, Breskaro. My fate is yours. Orisala’s
fate
is this city’s.” 

Breskaro opened the book to find page after page of what seemed to be random lines radiating out from empty to fully-shaded circles. “I can’t read this. Though it looks familiar. I’ve seen patterns like these before ... somewhere.”

“I cannot read it either, and no spell I have ever found would allow me to. These are the instructions to the Akythiri Mechanism, written in the alien language of its builders who came to this planet long ago from some other world. Like I said before, the mechanism was a medic’s tool. Intended to heal wounded soldiers on the battlefield. The aliens brought many of them, but for some reason, they didn’t work right on this planet. Strange things would sometimes happen with the devices.”

“Like raising corpses?”

“I was told that it would sometimes kill someone with a minor injury and restore them to life. And sometimes the machine simply would not work. This particular machine was modified with sorcery to make it reliable in raising corpses. But it can still heal as well.”

“Who taught you how to use it?”

“A being long departed from this world.”

“This manual is thick. What all can this thing do?”

“It can mend broken bones, seal wounds, repair damaged tissues, resuscitate someone who has just died.”

“Then it could give immortality.”

“It can extend life by healing injuries and curing diseases. But it can only heal so much. It would not have healed you on the battlefield on the day you died. Your injuries were too extensive.”

“What if we used it on me now?”

“I am not sure what would happen. And...” Her voice grew distant. She turned away. “If you use it to heal, there is a strong possibility it will break afterward.”

“How likely?”

“I healed with it several times before. Then the part you replaced shattered. As I said, the alien race found that it did not work properly here. It was unreliable and often had unintended consequences.”

Breskaro shut the book and sighed. “Well, I tried.”

“You believe me?”

“I don’t have a choice, do I?” 

Aleui returned. “We are needed at the South Gate.”

Breskaro chuckled. “Ah, the emissaries have arrived. And right on time.”

“How did you know?” Aleui asked.

“I used to be a colonel in the Seshallan army. Their timing is textbook.”

Chapter 41

Breskaro leaned over the wall. Below him was a herald with a trumpet in one hand and in the other a standard bearing a white flag with a single rose in the center. Beside the herald stood Ilsimia in leather armor combined with her golden raiment and Kedimius in travel-stained armor. 

“I told you not to come, Kedimius!” Breskaro boomed from the wall. “I told you to run to the Kingdoms of Rust, or farther.”

“This is madness, Breskaro!”

“Yes, Kedimius, it
is
madness. Madness is the world I live in. I think it’s always been the world I lived in, I just couldn’t see it. I should have listened to Whum all those years ago. He tried to tell me.”

“Whum?” Kedimius said with an oddly hopeful note in his voice. “How is our old friend? I’ve missed him.”

“He sends his regards. And he hopes he’s not the one to kill you when you try these walls.”

“Master, you know we outnumber you ten to one. This city is weak. Even with your skill and your ... Valiants. It’s not enough.”

“You don’t know my full power,” said Breskaro. “I won’t lose here. I can’t lose. If I do, Seshalla will grow stronger. If I do, Magnos will live on. If I do, Orisala won’t be healed.”

“If you would tell us where she is or let us see her, maybe we could help.”

Ilsimia touched his arm. He glanced at her furtively and then looked back up to Breskaro.

“Your bitch grows jealous, Kedimius.”

“Breskaro!” Ilsimia cried out. “Harmulkot no longer exists! She was banished from this city and cursed so that she could never assume physical form again. Her power was broken centuries ago! She cannot help you! I know this from the Matriarch and in my heart.”

“Listen to her!” Kedimius pleaded. “You have gone mad!”

Breskaro began a deep, sinister bellow. “Your
heart
is gravely mistaken, priestess.”

Aleui, with the ghost of Harmulkot superimposed onto her, stepped up to the edge of the wall. Dark fire surrounded her form like a bruised cloud, aflame and swirling. 

“
I am Harmulkot
!” she cried in a voice of power that sent shivers across even Breskaro’s nearly lifeless skin. “You shall fear my power! The Matriarch will
kneel
before me when all is done here. Emissaries, you would be wise to flee. Begone from my lands!”

The ground beneath them thundered and shook. Dust rained down from buildings throughout the city. The wall trembled. The herald dropped standard and trumpet, spun his mount, and rode away in terror. 

The tremors ceased, but commotion spread throughout the city.

“Kedimius!” Breskaro shouted. “You failed us. But I bear no hatred toward you. Take your woman and flee. If you love her as you once loved Orisala, then go. Find peace. Live a good life. Abandon sword and temple. Enjoy life while you can. In death there is no way to know what you will get.”

“Paradise!” shouted Ilsimia, with a tremble in her voice. She was scarcely able to take her eyes off Harmulkot. She didn’t even reach for her crystal matrix.

“Did I, the greatest knight of Seshalla, find Paradise? I, who died in her service?”

“You had an affair with Deltenya, behind General Togisi’s back.”

“Did he tell you that?” Breskaro asked. “Ask him this: Did he see anything more than a kiss that Deltenya forced upon me when I wasn’t suspecting it? Did he tell you that Deltenya poisoned and killed Metra? Did he tell you that he was an abusive husband? No, I did everything Seshalla asked of me and she was false.”

Ilsimia began to speak but Harmulkot interrupted her. “Go and tell your masters that I have returned and will not give up my city!”

That was more than Ilsimia could take. She spun her horse around and fled toward the pass and the safety of her sister priestesses. Kedimius galloped after her. But he paused once and looked back at Breskaro before leaving the plain. Then he turned and rode on.

Breskaro and Harmulkot stepped away from the wall and she dropped the flames. “I could not have held that much longer. You talk too much.”

“I would have the boy see reason. He’s throwing away his life. He knows Magnos was wrong. He should give up.”

“He won’t see reason. Would you have if your positions were reversed?”

Breskaro sighed and struck his fist against the wall, cracking the stone and tearing leathery skin. “I would not have.”

The earth rumbled again.

“What the hell’s going on, Harmulkot? These aren’t normal earthquakes.”

“The city bears a curse should I return. I am certain that is what it is. What form this curse would take, I had no idea.”

Esha stood nearby, peeking over the wall. 

“Master,” she muttered to herself, “I will find some way to make this right for you. I’m your shield-maiden. You’re trusting me to guard you, and I will find some way to see you through.”

As she looked out onto the barren plain she had a sudden vision, a mere glimpse, of a shining woman riding a white stallion into battle, plowing through dark figures. She had gleaming garments, a crystal sword held aloft. Breskaro had fallen. He was about to be consumed by this wave of light. And Esha saw herself, wounded, bleeding out.

“Esha!” Breskaro called.